The Fun Kind of Fighting

What better way to celebrate and appreciate my new found friends back here in Kosovo (after having been away for 3 weeks) than going to a large open field and shooting at each other? Believe it or not in a place that is still recovering from the actual bullets flying, there is a large open field that has been converted into a paintball course used (mostly) by internationals. As much as I despise war and everything that it has destroyed, we had a great day of painting each other yellow, orange and some bluish red color.


Over thirty of us joined forces and donned our blue jumpsuits as if we were joining a chain-gang. The fact that it got up to 29 degrees didn't help our situation, especially when we pulled our masks down to cover the last remaining skin for our enemies might want to sting. Somehow, my intuition caused me to bring old biking gloves and a bandanna (both were incidentally blue to match the jumper) to fully encase my hands and neck in protective gear that would ideally prevent the rumored bruises that the paintballs cause. 1o euros later and 200 balls and I was ready to go. Man, you can go through some cash in buying refiller balls when your adrenaline is pumping and you switch you gun onto automatic fire to send a barrage of splattering balls towards the opposite team.

One would think with such a potentially dangerous sport that there would be a formal orientation and instructions on really what to do. Other than telling us not to bring the guns into the cafe area and to always wear our mask on the field, we were mostly left to our own devises to divide into two reasonably balanced teams, walk to opposite sides of the field, and then let all hell break lose with the last team standing, the winner. This is Kosovo. Fortunately, there were no real 'sleepers' among our friends with formal combat training (unusual since there are so many soldiers and civilian police out here) yet we all started strategizing and partnering like we had seen done on any nightly news broadcast from Iraq.



Game one was a strategic mastermind. Four of us sprinted to the double decker bus to take the high ground and be able to shoot into the protective bunkers of the opposite team. One of our men (thanks again Steve) was sacrificed providing ground cover for the rest of us while Ed and I climbed to the upper deck and I think Gerrit took one protecting us up the steps. From our perch we strategically picked off their approaching snipers with carefully placed rounds clipping the tops of their masks (yes these counted) or exposed feet, hands or any other part we could find. Now, if the paint actually flew straight or allowed you to calibrate your shots accordingly, this would have been easy and taken a fraction of the bullets it did. But whether this is part of a conspiracy by the company to buy more bullets or just they way the paint flies, we usually had to send in 5-10 rounds in order for one to make its mark. Not to mention by that time they all know exactly where our bullets were coming from and they send a volley of paint all over the front, roof and cross bar of the bus causing us to cower from being made into a nice mosaic pattern. Eventually victory was claimed by the red armband for round one and after a paint refill and everyone pumped for more 'killing', round two began on the opposite sides.




And yes, the team with the bus had the advantage. Most of us were picked off pretty quickly in round two and since the plain team had secret Rambo's such as Justin and sweet little Tara, we quickly learned that this was not going to be too easy. Round three brought us to the professional field where we didn't only have tires and buses to navigate but real bushes, berms, hay barrels and a couple well fortified bunkers. This is where we got the hang of teamwork and just pushing ahead quickly with cover fire. My same 4 person strike team (yes we were bad asses) of Ed, Gerrit, Steve and myself flanked left to take a high barrel cover, a tire barricade and they I hit the berm to elbow and knee crawl my way up to the top to send random rounds into the other side without being able to look at the target. Man it was a rush to hear the paint whizzing right by your ears and exploding on the bush tops or even the grass sending a spray of paint over my face and clothes. But I'm still in. But pretty quickly stuck as I started up one hill to the painful realization it was thorns, rolling to my right to be greeted by some not so friendly bees, and then finally belting a scream for cover as I darted over the top to roll down the other side with paint flying (ok maybe not so dramatic but in my mind this is what was going on).



As I took cover behind a thicket an opponent was shooting right from the other side but neither us could shoot each other and violate the 6 meter safe zone. But for some reason she decided to step out into to the open to articulate these instructions to me as she fired her gun and was taken out by Gerrit's support fire (more than 6 meters). Lucky, I only sustained a nasty hit on my gloved knuckle (can only imagine what it would look like without one). So, now that we had pushed up on the left side we realized the rest of our team had also taken the right. Pushing onto the final bunker my dear friend Naragham was making a final stand for her team. As she was sliding back towards my side for better protection against the opposite side, I had a clear shot to end the game. Now if you'll recall the comments earlier that the paint goes all different directions and is damn hard to aim? Subscribing to this theory and not wanting her to be able to spot me in the open and return fire I sent in at least 5 shots, of which all made their mark. Horrified I saw her fall back and roll around as if it was the real thing. As we all rushed up on her she was already bruising well on her leg and hip and a couple had hit the face mask sending paint all into her mouth and nose. Fortunately she was not too hurt but I still held my head in shame.



No worries since what comes around goes around. The next game I was hit point blank in the nose causing a small cut and bruise and sending gushing paint all over my face making me certain it was my own bloody nose. Fortunately blood tastes better than the paint. I also caught one on the top of my unguarded head which left a nice hump. Watching from the sidelines was fun to see Justin shot by his own teammate and then a standoff between two players emptying all their rounds at each other but being resupplied by all the other out players. In the final round we took the plain team by storming the bus and catching Justin from two sides as he ran out of ammo. Better luck next time bro:-)



As most of us licked our wounds a handful of terminators went to the advanced course of rapid fire shot and run behind inflatable pods till the last man is standing. Fast and furious and somehow Tara emerged again victorious taking out most the big guys. A handful of us celebrated our wounds and new friends with a great meal and beers afterward. I actually had to take a nap even not having factored in 4 hours in 29 degrees expiring a full amount of adrenaline. Now lets just pray that everyone can just stick to paint around this place and we'll be full of colors, smiles and new friends. Painting the way to Peace...